Wales is the place for love
In the quince tree there; a coupling of,
Round like berries; it’s a clashing,
Of tastebuds compassion and lasting.
It’s colors are the driving power
And makes the flavour of sour,
A tree with yellow berries true,
Bearing fruit with such a brilliant hue.
In the forest it murmurs,
The voices of fairies hummer,
A choir of timeless truth,
Savouring the soul in it’s youth.
While the branch lovingly swoon
To the dark side of the moon,
Leaving one calm and happy,
If it’s love you should fancy.
To carve a heart into bark
The somber ambers would spark,
With sweet honey imprisoning,
That glow of the sun envisioning.
It’s an ache in the belly if you eat
Keeps you up all night and weep,
But only if you partake in haste,
With the tartness when you taste.
And there’s all the beauty in thee
In the colours of the quince tree,
Living a life not too bothered,
Finding love here; never squandered.